


when no one would tell us the truth

by plinys



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Evil, F/M, The Framework Universe (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 16:44:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20195458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: His suit jacket abandoned once he had made his way up into the penthouse, the layers of the Director that he played at being slipping away to reveal a man that would always be familiar to her.Her Captain.





	when no one would tell us the truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dearingsattler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearingsattler/gifts).

> The lovely Claire commissioned me to write a piece where Rip/Gideon are in a similar set up to the Framework from AoS, so I wrote a glimpse into that universe for her!

There’s a spot of blood on the sleeve of his white shirt.

His suit jacket abandoned once he had made his way up into the penthouse, the layers of the  _ Director  _ that he played at being slipping away to reveal a man that would always be familiar to her. 

Her Captain.

The one who would always be her  _ Captain _ , no matter who else tried to step into his shoes. No matter what other suits he wore, or positions he filled, or the distance between them. 

He’s here.

Alive, and well.

And that’s all that really matters. 

“You’re late,” she says, casual, conversation, looking up from her monitors to watch as he moves about their penthouse.

_ This  _ is different here too.

Monitors, behind which she controls everything.

Rather than the control and the technology being her  _ essence _ .

It is not the first time she has felt this way, not the first time that she has been able to give herself a corporeal form. But this time it is different. This time she is not machine or memory - not even a robot, but instead a  _ woman  _ as she was so clearly meant to be.

With emotions, and physical touch, and the ability to bleed. 

But also without access to her network of data.

She can control the whole  _ world _ , but only when her eyes are focused on the screen before her. 

For now though, the world can wait. 

Everything can wait.

“Did you miss me,” he asks.

Of course, she did.

She always did.

That was why there were here.

That was why she had ran  _ her  _ simulation over and over again until she found a version of him that she could keep.

But this version of him doesn’t know that.

So she smiles, a smile that makes lesser men’s blood run cold, “Only a little. Busy day?” 

It’s not a perfect solution.

Truly there wasn’t ever going to be one, she had run the simulation herself plenty of times. Over and over again, looking for a loop hole, looking for a universe in which he wouldn’t have to ( _ leave her _ ) sacrifice himself to save them. 

This was that alternative.

Carefully constricted, a series of choices along the way, made and remade until there was no chance of things going wrong. 

Certainly there had to be a  _ few  _ changes. 

But they were necessary. 

His smile matches hers, “You could say that.” 

So, maybe he’s a little bit rougher around the edges.

Maybe they’re both a little bit more  _ ruthless  _ in their protection of the timeline. 

Maybe the  _ Legends  _ that she used to look after with great care are all a little different now too, well used to the navy suits that they wear, and the habit of showing no mercy.

Necessary.

It was all necessary. 

“Gideon-”

She kisses him. 

This version of him.

Because she can.

Because he’s here right in front of her, and not moving away or disappearing in a cloud of smoke, or still trying to hurt himself just a little under the guise of being heroic. He’s got blood dried to his shirt, stubble that burns against her cheeks when she kisses him, but he’s alive and well and  _ that  _ is all that really truly matters.

She can become harsher for him.

A little more cruel.

A little more ruthless.

It’s worth it, for this, for the way he moves against her. All heat and passion pushing her back against her desk, jostling the monitors, in his need to kiss her. She returns the kiss with just as much fire, hands tight against his bloodstained shirt keeping him in place, pulling him and inviting him in for so much more.

It would not be the first time they did it on top of her desk.

Probably not the last time either. 

But it does not last for long, does not lead to the end that she wants to, because before too long he pulls back, breathing there against her lips for a moment, his eyes shut, looking so completely at peace with his life that  _ this  _ alternate reality cannot possibly be wrong. 

Surely.

If it has given her this man, surely, it cannot be all evil. 

“I’m going to take a shower,” he says, lips there brushing against hers as he speaks. 

“Ah, okay.”

“You should join me,” he adds, at her momentary hesitation.

And what she wouldn’t give for that.

For the feeling of a shower, of water beating down against her now  _ human  _ body, and the feeling of him there under the water with her. Of all that they would get up to under the way spray. Of his hands against her naked body. Of-

The monitor behind her beeps. 

Both of their eyes flickering over her shoulder to where the screens are. 

“I will,” she says, the words feeling like less of a promise than they should, “Just a few things left to finish.” 

He presses another light kiss there. So brief. So soft. So unlike the man that this world paints him to be, a dark and cruel  _ Director _ . Before moving away from her, in the direction of the penthouse’s bathroom. 

She waits.

Lingers there. 

Pausing as though to catch her breath, were she the type of  _ person  _ to ever need to, before slowly moving back around the desk. To the monitors that track the universe that she has created. 

There’s a stream there to a cell, somewhere far below them, where a  _ fugitive  _ of time resides. One of the few that she couldn’t correct with the simulation - an error, an anomaly, someone that before all of this she would have considered a friend. 

But sacrifices had to be made.

And she couldn’t risk her whole world toppling down just because the very person that made the simulation that was keeping this new timeline afloat, was the very same person that had been able to see through her own creation. 

She spares one last lingering look at the camera, at the split lip on the woman huddled into the corner, no doubt planning another escape. Before closing down the computer, far away, where  _ he  _ can’t see all that she has been up to.

“Good night, Miss Tomaz.” 

It’s worth.

To keep Rip.

It has to be. 


End file.
